I used to sleep on a park bench with my shoes tied together so they would not be stolen at night. Every morning, I woke up with the same question echoing in my head. How did my life shrink to this? I had no home, no job, and no one waiting for me. Just a backpack, a torn jacket, and a stubborn will to survive. One cold afternoon, I found a flyer for a free skills workshop at a community center. I almost ignored it, thinking it was not meant for people like me. But hunger pushed me through the door. I learned how to write a simple resume, how to speak with confidence, and most importantly, how to believe again. I started small, cleaning floors at night, saving every dollar, reading books from the library during the day. I failed many times. I was rejected, ignored, and laughed at. There were nights when I wanted to quit and return to the bench because it felt familiar. But each morning, I chose to stand up again. Years later, I stand in my own apartment, looking out the window at the same park bench. I do not see shame anymore. I see proof that even from zero, a man can rebuild everything.